


lathbora viran

by pancakesandplaid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakesandplaid/pseuds/pancakesandplaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t tell the Keeper,” Merrill admitted the fact one night in a hushed whisper.</p>
<p>“Not a word,” Mahariel grinned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lathbora viran

The Sabrae clan was known for their crafts (Master Ilen, of course, being the very best around, or nearly so), and previously for Keeper Mahariel, who spoke of change and peace, as if it were possible to one day achieve equality with the humans through diplomacy.

An idyllic man, but he was well-respected for it.

His early passing was unfortunate, but his spirit lived on in his son, who displayed his father’s very compassion and kindness, and his mother’s passion and resolve even though he had never once met them.

All these were overheard by Merrill, young as she was when she first joined the Sabrae clan. Ferelden had so much more forests compared to Nevarra, and she gazed at them all with large eyes, timid and afraid and alone.

It was Mahariel who reached out to her - a slightly older boy, just by a scant few years, but he must have sensed her loneliness and then came to her.

She was serious about her studies  and had little time to join the rest of the clan, but Mahariel would occasionally come and share the honeycomb he’d acquired while helping out Master Ilen to retrieve ironbark from the forests.

Marethari tried hard to also be a good mother to her, though she wasn’t good in singing, and was better as a teacher than a parent, but Merrill didn’t mind too much - she knew she was loved, above all. 

“Don’t tell the Keeper,” Merrill admitted the fact one night in a hushed whisper.

“Not a word,” Mahariel grinned, and he came back the next day with a lute he’d just crafted under Master Ilen’s teachings, and began to strum a song for her. He wasn’t the best at singing either, but the sound that came from the lute was beautiful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, Orana would play the lute when she visited Hawke’s mansion. Orana was looking more hale and healthy, and she seemed at peace under Hawke’s employment.

“Would you like to learn, messere?”

“Oh– no, it’s just that a friend of mine used to play the lute for me,” Merrill said wistfully. 


End file.
